Durham

Danger Lurks in the Garden- A Cautionary Tale from Durham, NC

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I was halfway through writing a very pleasant blog post about my latest trip to New Bedford, Massachusetts, home of daughter A and her soon to be husband N, when I was (purposefully) interrupted by a trip to my hometown of Durham, NC to visit my parents. It was a beautiful weekend, the temperature was cool, and I was actually able to do one of the best training runs for Mt. Baker that I’ve done in a while. Turns out running in 70 degrees and no humidity is a lot easier than running in mid 80s when the clouds are about to burst open.

I was so inspired by the spring weather that I felt compelled to start weeding in my parents’ front yard. That was Saturday. My father announced toward the end of my session he thought there was a lot of poison ivy there. I hadn’t seen any and shrugged it off (the fact I was using an old bag that had been filled with lime to store my weeds explained the burning sensation in my hands – or so I thought). (I have subsequently determined that poison sumac looks a heckuva lot like the vines I was pulling.)

The next day my flight left in early afternoon, but what better way to spend an hour than pulling a few more weeds, this time from the back yard. Oh, I haven’t mentioned I rarely wear gloves; they diminish the sensation of the good solid pull you get from bare handed gardening.

I was fine on the flight back to Orlando on Sunday, although I started to notice some itchy sensations. Fast forward to Thursday. I’ve lost several days of training. I’m covered with bumps, red blotches, watery blisters, and pretty much any time I think about any part of my body it starts to itch.

The good news is I discovered Teladoc. For five dollars and setting up an account they found my benefits information and I was on a video call with a “Florida board certified ER physician,” within 30 minutes. She took one look at my red face and almost swollen shut left eye and called in a prescription for what is apparently known as a “prednisone blister pack.” I’ve now taken 4 tablets with 2 left to go for the day. Wondering if this is supposed to make me Uber aggressive and I should be arguing with opposing counsel.

But seriously, a totally fabulous and efficient health care experience. But I suggest you avoid it by wearing gloves while gardening.

Hidden Things in North Carolina – A New Decade Awaits

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A trip to my family home in the Piedmont of North Carolina is always full of the hidden. Shadows of the past; remnants of the present. And Christmas of 2019 was no exception.

Some remnants of the present were literally remnants. There’s a place called the Scrap Exchange in Durham, run by a not for profit organization, that houses bins of about anything you can think of. Egg cartons, for example. Door knobs. Left over and partially used craft projects. I scored 6 Christmas stockings for a dollar each (you can never have too many), two Irish linen handkerchiefs in their original souvenir packaging for fifty cents (my brother had the temerity to ask what I would do with them), and a holiday adorned roll cover for my mother (there is such a thing). The latter two were in a bin optimistically labeled “vintage linens.”

Beyond that, there are always hidden things at Five Oaks, the weekend home my parents bought many years ago north of Durham. There is now only one big oak tree, four having been felled by various hurricanes, but “One Oak” doesn’t have the same ring. Over the years, my father has created multiple vistas designed around one or more objects he’s made from whatever happened to be on hand. But as time has crept (leapt?) by, the underbrush has become above brush and said objects peek forth through a chaos of leaves and branches. Can you see the pot?

The Smokehouse

Five Oaks was also the scene of a hide and seek adventure this year – involving Teddy, my parents’ extremely large furry 8 year old dog, who looks like a Swedish Lapphund. As a dog, he is allowed to be identified by his full name, rather than an initial.

There’s a dog in there somewhere

We all took a walk across the meadow through the woods and down to the bluff that overlooks a creek. Teddy lumbered along beside us, staying quite close, until we reached the bluff. At which point, N (boyfriend of daughter A for those of you who don’t read this regularly) confidently predicted Teddy wouldn’t try to make it down because he’d be worried about making it back up. At which point Teddy decided to prove N wrong and took off down said bluff, across the creek, over and through a neighbor’s pond. Repeated calls by humans were much less tempting than the gobble gobbles of the wild turkey he had decided to chase. It was particularly disconcerting because we could hear loud cracks of gunshot from some nearby hunters.

Ultimately S (as in daughter S’s boyfriend) undertook the task of tracking down Teddy (who by now was a blur in the distance), which required S heroically removing his shoes and socks, wading through creek and pond, and somehow convincing Teddy that he was more interesting than a wild turkey. In the meantime I had run back to the house to get Teddy’s leash to prevent any further escapes. Teddy rather sheepishly made his way back up the bluff and N has now been banned from speaking things into existence.

Downtown Durham itself has turned hidden things into an art form. Who knew that the rundown Jack Tarr motel I remember from the 1970s really wanted to be a fancy cocktail bar all this time?

So as we close out 2019 and roll into 2020 – the beginning of a new decade after all (will they be roaring?) I hope we all appreciate the hidden things around us, whether human, animal, or other. The 2010s were full of summits for J and me, most of them very visible. I hope the 2020s will be the same. But it’s important to remember that not all summits are mountain peaks, and some of those hidden ones are just as significant. Happy new decade, one and all.